Oil and Water
by kates1304
Summary: Jac gets a blast from the past, Jonny gets caught in the crossfire...
1. Chapter 1

She opened the fridge, stared at the salad, then shut the door again and reached for the take away menu. She knew that she should have had the salad – in the past she would even have enjoyed the salad – but now all she wanted was pizza. She knew that the eating for two thing was a myth, and if she'd been in any doubt the stone she'd put on in the last three months would have convinced her, but she didn't care. She was tired and hungry, and she was craving junk food so no amount of healthy salad was going to satisfy her. In any case, it was sort of a special occasion. She didn't really celebrate birthdays, there was no point when there was nobody to buy her a card or send her a present, but occasionally she used them as an excuse to treat herself. Normally it was just a slice of cake, maybe an extra glass of wine, but this year she had an excuse to eat a little more and if she'd had any good intentions then they'd all gone out of the window when she'd arrived at work to find a bacon roll and a cake waiting on her desk, a combined effort from Jonny and Elliot. There was also a card with a whole three signatures – two more than in previous years when Elliot hadn't been able to cajole anybody else into signing – but the fact that Mo had signed it "Happy Birthday Fatso!" had slightly taken the shine off. All in all it had been a good day, and a large stuffed crust pizza with extra cheese would make it even better.

When she was finally stuffed, after half of the pizza and a quarter of the birthday cake, she turned her attention to her cards. Normally she got one from an old foster mother and that was it. In the last couple of years she'd had one from her sister but as soon as she got to recognise the artistically swirly writing and the fact that the girl always seemed to write in emerald green ink she started throwing them straight in the bin. There was also always the one conspicuous in its absence, from her mother who'd only remembered her birthday the year she wanted a kidney. It had been so long since her mother had remembered her birthday for anything other than wholly manipulative reasons that it was years since she'd given the absence of a card a second thought, but still it smarted that the woman who'd given birth to her could behave as though she didn't exist. This year she had the one from her foster mother, which she opened, read and binned, the one from Jasmine that she didn't open, just binned, and one other. She didn't recognise the neat, block capitals on the envelope, or the postmark. She didn't think that she knew anybody who lived in Bristol. Briefly she wondered whether Joseph had moved back south but since he'd never remembered her birthday in the past and it wasn't his writing it seemed somehow unlikely. More than likely an old colleague who mistakenly thinks we're friends, she thought to herself, wondering who on earth could have gotten such a wrong impression. She went out of her way never to be nice to anybody so nobody could possibly think that she was their friend. She couldn't imagine who could be thick skinned enough to get past the tirade of barbs and insults and then send her a birthday card. Jonny had managed it but only because he was thick enough to mistake her insults for flirting, and because she had something that he wanted access to. She simply didn't have friends, so there was nobody who would send her a birthday card. By the time she opened it she had more or less convinced herself that it was a card from the dentist reminding her that it was time for an appointment, so she was almost surprised by the picture of the sorry looking cake with half a dozen miserable looking candles. Clearly it was a birthday card, but a cheap one. Clearly a card that has been sent to be polite, she thought to herself, examining the outside of it carefully before opening it. The message inside was written in the same neat block capitals as the envelope, handwriting so meticulously neat that if it hadn't been written in fountain pen then it would have looked more like a printout. She was so distracted by the handwriting that for a second she didn't really register the message, but when she did her blood ran cold. When she was a child she had dreamed of receiving this card. Admittedly in her dreams it had been a nicer card than this, and it gave more information than simply a name and an email address in addition to the printed message, but it was still what she'd wanted more than anything. Even when she was twelve years old and stuck in that shitty children's home she had dreamt of it. Not quite as much as she'd dreamt of her mother coming back for her, but it had still been one of the things that she'd wanted most in the world. In fact, for her fourteenth birthday some little shit from the home had sent her a fake birthday card from him and then pissed himself laughing at her obvious delight. Then she'd grown up. She hadn't stopped wanting it but she'd stopped seriously believing it would ever happen, stopped thinking about it at all really. She didn't know what had stirred him into action after thirty-seven years. She really wished that she didn't care – that she could bring herself to throw the card in the bin, too little too late, and move on with her life – but she couldn't do that. The card didn't tell her anything other than that he was alive, that he had a name and that she could email him if she liked. He didn't explain himself which after leaving her with the world's worst mother for nearly forty years would have been polite, but if he had then she would have thrown the card straight in the bin. The fact that he didn't meant that she was going to have to contact him, if only to find out what had taken him so long. It meant that instead of throwing the card in the bin she reached for her iPad and fired up the email program. It meant that instead of writing to him and telling him to fuck off, she penned a curt missive thanking him for his card and asking him a few choice questions. It wasn't exactly a civil email but it was a line of communication that wouldn't have been opened if he'd spilled his heart in the card. Well played, she thought to herself as she sent the email. Then she tossed Jasmine's card in the bin, reached for another slice of cake and waited for a reply.

**oooooo**

She was at work when she received the reply. She was sitting at her desk, eating her way through a packet of ginger nuts, catching up on paperwork and trying to avoid Jonny when her phone vibrated. It had been three days since she'd sent the email and received only deafening silence in return. She could only assume that since sending the card he'd gotten cold feet and was very much hoping that if he didn't reply to her email then she'd disappear again, and although she would sooner die than admit it she was disappointed. It wasn't that she needed a father – that boat had well and truly sailed twenty years ago – but she didn't appreciate being messed around and it was disappointing to find that contrary to what she would have thought, it was possible for her opinion of her parents to fall even further. At least her mother made no bones about being disinterested and didn't raise her hopes of getting an answer only to dash them. Perhaps he was disappointed not to be welcomed into his daughter's life with open arms, but she didn't really believe that he could be that stupid. She could only assume that the nature of her email had convinced him that she was more trouble than she was worse. The disappointment had made her even more cranky than usual, which was unfortunate, particularly for Jonny. That was why she was hiding in the office: he was on the warpath because she'd moved a scan and had it without telling him, purely to remind him who was boss and to make herself feel more in control. She wasn't particularly proud of it, but she could still do without being called a crazy bitch, which was why she was avoiding him. She knew that he'd calm down eventually, and that she would be able to persuade Mr T to arrange a second scan so that he could have his moment of dewy-eyed sentimentality, but for now it seemed wisest to give him a wide berth.

The email didn't really answer any of her questions. It didn't explain why he'd never been around when she was a child. He simply blamed her mother, which was fine – she was more than happy to blame her mother for everything from her PMT to global warming and the state of the economy – but it didn't really wash. Thanks to recent wrangles with Jonny she knew far more than she wanted to about parental access, and she knew that even in the '80s he would have had rights. He would have been able to see her at least occasionally, especially after her mother had buggered off to find herself. There must have been an element of choice on his side, even if it was purely the choice not to fight her mother. It also didn't explain why he'd finally gotten in touch. He mentioned that he'd been following her career over the years but he didn't explain what had been the catalyst to sending that birthday card. He asked whether she'd had a pleasant birthday. That was it: a pathetic excuse and a pleasantry. It was as utterly inadequate an answer as she would have expected based on forty odd years of disinterest and she should have deleted it and moved on with her life, but she couldn't. He'd opened the floodgate now and she wanted answers.

'What has gotten into you?' Jonny demanded. Hiding from him had only gotten her so far because eventually exhaustion and the fact that she was hungry and had run out of biscuits meant that she had to venture out from behind the locked office door and onto the ward. It meant that she had to face him, and the fact that he was still red in the face and had barrelled towards her as soon as he saw her suggested that he was still a long way from calming down. 'I thought we were past these stupid games'

'What stupid games?' she asked wearily 'It was simply a more convenient time'

'That you didn't bother to tell me about? Come off it Jac' he scoffed 'You've made your point. For whatever reason I needed a kicking and you've given it to me, that's what this is about'

'Think what you want' she replied, trying to elbow past him but it was no good. For a weedy man he could be surprisingly strong when he wanted to be and he stood fast leaving her no choice but to talk to him. 'If it means that much to you we'll arrange another scan or something'

'That's not the point, Jac' he told her firmly 'You don't get to treat me this way'

'I think you'll find that I do, and I did' she retorted, irritated because nothing rankled more than when he tried to tell her how she could and couldn't behave. It was nearly as annoying as when he cried at scans and films and programmes about puppies.

'I have rights'

'Want a bet?'

'I'm sure my lawyer will be happy to have a wager'

'I'm sure mine will cost at least twice as much' she retorted. She didn't really have any serious intention of carving him out of their baby's life – she'd grown up without a father, or a mother for that matter, and she didn't want that for their child no matter how much Jonny drove her mad – but she'd never told him as much in any convincing way. It was quite fun to watch him squirm, plus if he thought that his position was secure then he'd start taking liberties. Keeping him on the hook meant that if he started overwhelming her with gestures and unwanted attention then she could simply remind him that his life would be a lot simpler if he kept her sweet.

'You're insane'

'So you keep telling me. Can I get past now, please? Your unborn child is playing havoc with my bladder'

'Fine' he huffed, standing aside 'We'll talk about this later'

'Not if I take out a restraining order' she called back over her shoulder. She didn't really believe that they'd talk about it later because he'd do what he always did and forget about it for the sake of a quiet life.


	2. Chapter 2

'What the hell are you doing here?' she demanded. She had just been settling down for the night with a bowl of pasta and a constructed reality TV show on TIVO that she would deny to the death that she watched when she was disturbed by the doorbell. She should have ignored it because there was literally nobody in the world that she wanted to speak to, but she didn't largely because it was followed by hammering and Jonny bellowing through the letter box that he'd seen her car. She could still have left it but she didn't want to treat the neighbours to an unnecessary floorshow so reluctantly she battled to her feet and answered 'You're making a scene'

'You don't want to talk to me at work. I get that: the nurses don't need any more gossip fodder than they already have and you like to keep your personal life and professional life separate. I respect that but if you want that to happen then you need to accept that I'm part of both'

'So you're doorstepping me on a Saturday night? Really?' she leaned forward and sniffed his breath. It didn't smell of anything other than mints but still she added: 'How much have you had to drink?' because she felt that even answering the question would unsettle him. Accusing him of being an irresponsible binge drinker was one of the fastest ways to make him back off.

'Nothing. I've given up drinking?'

'What?' she asked with a laugh. Jonny was one of the biggest beer lovers that she'd ever met. Rarely a day off passed without him sinking ten pints and even on a work night he would happily down two or three. He never ever drove when they went out because he always wanted a drink. It was one of many things that had driven her mad about him. He was just about the most unlikely teetotaller she'd ever met.

'Well you can't drink so why should I? Plus, my liver probably needs me to slow down to be honest, and the baby deserves better from me than being drunk the whole time'

'You can still drink the 99% of the time you're not with the baby' she pointed out. He had this ludicrous idea about splitting custody 50/50. It simply wasn't going to happen and they both knew it, but it couldn't hurt to remind him. 'And you drinking or not drinking makes zero difference to me'

'Still' he shrugs 'Mo reckons I'm getting boring in my old age'

'It's so rare that Maureen has a point, but on this occasion…'

'Can I come in? Properly I mean?'

'Fine' she sighed. She really didn't need to let him past the hallway – she'd only let him that far because he was making a spectacle of them both in public – but she was tired of arguing with him and at least if they had this conversation now it gave her ammunition for avoiding it later. 'What did you want to talk about?'

'The baby' he replied. Obviously, she thought to herself, silently rolling her eyes. Get to the point. 'I need to be involved' he added and she stifled a yawn. This was what all their conversations boiled down to these days: what he needed, what he wanted. He didn't care that what she needed was peace and quiet, and possibly a packet of crisps, a bar of chocolate and a back massage. All he cared about was his rights and his feelings. It was getting really boring and she was sure he hadn't always been this self-obsessed. She would never have gone to bed with him if he had.

'You are involved. If you weren't then you wouldn't be standing here right now' she told him. And neither would I, she added silently to herself. He didn't know that she'd been offered a prestigious position at a hospital in California by a consultant that she'd met in Japan. He didn't know that she had been less than twenty-four hours from taking the job and leaving him with no choice but to be a wholly absent father, and he didn't know that what had ultimately stopped her was the fact that it would destroy him.

'You went for the scan. You didn't tell me'

'It was short notice. You were off'

'You could have called me'

'Nobody wants to come into the hospital on their day off. If it's that much of a problem I'm sure Mr T will fit me in for another scan'

'That's not the point, Jac, and you know it' he told her firmly 'You can't keep doing this. I'm as much a part of this as you are'

'Oh yeah? Let me know when you put on over a stone, have to pee twice an hour and can't sleep at night for backache. Then, maybe, you'll be as involved as I am'

'I'm doing my best' he protested. She was about to tell him that his best was woefully inadequate and that giving up drinking in solidarity didn't really cut the mustard, especially since it was just as likely to be inspired by a particularly heavy hangover as any real sense of responsibility towards her and their unborn child. She didn't because as she opened her mouth to shoot him down in flames the telephone rang and despite the fact that this was the landline and the only calls that she was interested in answering – from the hospital – would come through on her mobile, she answered it. 'Yeah?'

'Hello' the voice was lilting, Scottish, unfamiliar. She immediately presumed it was a cold caller. 'Jacqueline?'

'Speaking…?'

'This is Neil Bridges…' he told her, trailing off, leaving the implications of that to sink in. Curt emails were one thing, speaking to the man on the phone was quite another. It was a leap that she wasn't nearly ready to make, especially not with Jonny there to witness it.

'It's not a great time…' she told him.

'Not a problem. You can give me a ring. I'm working tonight but perhaps tomorrow morning?'

'Working tonight?' she couldn't help it, she was curious. She wondered what he did that necessitated him to work antisocial hours. She wondered whether she'd inherited her medical pedigree from him.

'I'm a nurse' he told her and in spite of herself her heart sank. Scottish and a nurse. She'd read something once about women going after men like their fathers. She didn't realise that that still held for women who'd never even met their fathers, yet this guy had more in common with Jonny than she was comfortable with. And worse, her child was going to be three quarters nurse and three quarters Scottish. She wasn't sure which distressed her more.

'Right. Well perhaps I'll call you back tomorrow. Can I get you on this number?'

'Yeah. Sorry to call you like this. I just… emails weren't going to get us anywhere'

'It's fine' she replied, stopping short of telling him that emails would be a lot more fruitful if he responded to anything that she said instead of peppering his reply with small talk.

'I'll speak to you tomorrow then'

'Yeah' she replied, putting the phone down and looking at Jonny who was watching her in askance.

'Who was that?'

'None of your bloody business' she snapped, sitting down heavily on the sofa. The baby shifted, predictably moving into a position that was as painful as possible for her and she scowled at Jonny for having the temerity not to be as uncomfortable as she was and because she had another four months of this pain.

'It is if it's upset you'

'I'm not upset' she snapped, then gave up shouting at him because he was annoyingly persistent and because she just wanted to be left alone. 'Look, Jonny, I'm sorry about the scan thing. It was careless and mean of me, it won't happen again. I'll talk to Mr Thompson about arranging another. And you will be involved with the baby, I've already told you that. We'll have to work out just how involved as we go along, but now really isn't the time to discuss it'

'Fine' he sighed, backing off because he could see that this was just about as close to a climb down as she was ever going to come. 'Are you sure you're okay? You look pale'

'I'm fine, Jonny. Just tired, that's all'

'Okay. Call me if you need anything'

'I won't, but thanks' she replied. She wouldn't be calling him. All she'd be doing until the morning was obsessing about whether or not she was actually going to return Neil Bridges' call.


	3. Chapter 3

Twelve hours later she was still in two minds. She wanted to know what he had to say, and she had some pretty choice things to say to him, but on the other hand she knew that if she phoned him and spoke to him then he would be in her life. She had come so far in her life without him being a part of it and she didn't particularly want him muscling in now. Not when she was at her most vulnerable and liable to forgive him forty years of neglect purely because suddenly the fact that she'd never had a family seemed to matter. Thanks to him, and her mother, she didn't know what it was to be a part of something. She didn't have anybody to celebrate a birthday or Christmas with, or call in the evening when she was lonely. The last time she'd been in hospital she'd had to put Elliot down as next of kin because there were no other candidates. She had nobody and until now that hadn't mattered to her, but now that there was the baby it did. She didn't know how to be part of a family and she knew that she was going to get it badly wrong because she had been hidden behind her barriers for so many years that she didn't know how to do anything else and the barriers weren't going to work with the baby. At least if she fucked it up with the pathetic excuse that passed for her father it wouldn't matter. She didn't need him, she'd been fine all this time without him, and in any case however badly she behaved it would never be as bad as him not acknowledging her for over thirty years.

'Hello, is that Neil?' she asked nervously. Unsurprisingly when push came to shove and she came to choosing between whether to delete his number or make the call she'd made the call. She needed to know things from him, not least how the hell he got her address and her home number, and she knew that if she didn't call then she would regret it for the rest of her life.

'Yes. Jacqueline?'

'It's Jac' she told him. The fact that he was using her full name was even odder. Only official people – lawyers, police, doctors who didn't know better – used that name. Even on the rare occasions when she did something that got her into a medical journal it was never Jacqueline, only Jac.

'Sorry. Jac' he corrected himself apologetically 'How are you?'

'Fine' she replied.

'I'm pleased you called'

'Yeah well, there are things that I want you to tell me. We can start with where you got my address and telephone number'

'I hired somebody to find them for me' he replied without a hint of shame 'I wanted to contact you and I got nowhere trying to track you down myself, but it's possible to pay people who are far better at that kind of thing than I am'

'Your hired a private detective?' she echoed, horrified at the thought of some seedy old man poking around in her private life. 'Could you not have tried something less sordid?'

'Like what? I considered contacting you at the hospital but I thought that you wouldn't want that. You don't need me crashing through your life in front of all your colleagues' he added. I don't need you crashing through my life at all, she thought to herself. The more that she learned about him the more she wished that he'd never bothered to track her down.

'Okay, well, how about why it's taken you nearly forty years to decide that you want to know me. Why now?'

'Because it took me nearly forty years to find out that you existed'

'What do you mean?' she demanded, stunned at the suggestion because it had never even occurred to her that her father didn't know that he had a daughter. Her mother had told her that her father had walked out on them when she was a baby. In fact, her mother had used it as one of many unpleasant ways to goad her when she was younger. Little Jackie: such a little brat that even her own father didn't want anything to do with her. She'd never doubted her mother's version of events because it had never really occurred to her to, until now even though her mother's relationship with the truth had always been tenuous at best.

'I mean that after she told me that she was pregnant your mother told me that she'd had a termination and that she never wanted to see me again' he explained wearily 'It didn't occur to me to demand proof and not seeing her again was no great loss to either of us. We were hardly love's young dream: we'd seen each other no more than three times and it was obvious that there was no future for us. We went our separate ways and I didn't even think about her until last year…'

'What happened last year?'

'You were in the paper. Something had happened at your hospital – some guy died in the back of an ambulance or being transferred to another hospital or something – and you gave a statement. You look so like your mother, but you have my eyes. And your grandfather's surname…'

'So you don't actually have any real proof that you are who you say you are?'

'If you want proof I'm more than happy to get a DNA test or whatever' he offered and she bit back a laugh. Between this and Jonny demanding DNA tests right left and centre whenever she suggested that he might not be playing a pivotal role in their child's upbringing, Jeremy Kyle would get weeks worth of mileage out of her and the mess that passed for her family.

'Why would my mother tell you that she'd had a termination when she hadn't?' she asked, but she already knew the answer. Her mother would do that because she was a spiteful bitch.

'Are you close to your mother?' he asked wearily.

'Not exactly, but then you already know that' she pointed out. Any decent private investigator wouldn't have taken too long about uncovering the six years she'd spent in the care system. 'What would you have done if she hadn't lied to you about the termination?'

'I don't know. Asked her to marry me probably' he replied, but at least he did it with a laugh. 'With hindsight I think that would have been a monumental mistake for all of us, but I do regret the fact that I wasn't there when you were younger. Especially when your mother…'

'Dumped me in care and buggered off to find herself in India? Yeah, those are the times when a girl really needs her dad'

'I'm sorry that I wasn't there. If I'd known…'

'Yeah, you'd have been there, I get it'

'I'd still like to be. I know that it's probably too little and thirty years too late, but I would like to get to know you. Would you be happy to meet? I can come to Holby' he added and she froze. This was a question that she hadn't prepared herself for, largely because she thought that she'd have sent him away with a flea in his ear long before he got around to suggesting a face-to-face meeting. The truth was, she didn't want him in Holby. She certainly didn't want him in her house, infesting the place with thoughts of him when she needed it to be a sanctuary. She didn't want him at the hospital where they would have an audience. She didn't really want him in Holby at all because it was her turf. If they were going to meet then she wanted it to be somewhere neutral.

'I'm on a course in Bath in a couple of months time. I'll be there for a couple of days. Perhaps we could meet and get a drink' she suggested. Bath seemed a fair enough compromise: it was close enough to him to be convenient and far enough that neither of them was going to be on their home turf. It was as close to a perfect opportunity as she they were going to come.

'I'd love that' he told her, managing to sound genuine even though she doubted whether she did.

'Fine. I'll call you nearer the time, let you know the arrangements'

'I'll look forward to it' he replied, sounding so pleased that she almost felt sorry for him. She could only imagine the disappointment when he realised that his daughter was a chip off the old block, and she knew that she was. She never acknowledged, even to herself, that she was like her mother but she only had to think of the way that she'd treated Jonny and the way that her mother had treated Neil to know that they were more similar than she would ever be willing to admit.

**ooooo**

'I'm sorry, you want me to what?' Jonny stared at her, mouth hanging agape as he tried and ultimately failed to comprehend what she was saying. It didn't seem to her to be such an outlandish request but it had clearly knocked him for six.

'I'd like you to come to the antenatal class' she repeated slowly, articulating each word carefully as if she were talking to a person of below par intelligence. 'You do want to be as involved as possible?'

'Well yes, of course…' he stammered, still in shock '… but you said…'

'I know what I said' she replied. When he'd broached the subject of the antenatal class less than a month earlier she'd laughed and said something about hell freezing over. She didn't want him coming to the bloody antenatal class, making life even more difficult by charming the socks off all the other women there and pissing off all the husbands, and she certainly didn't want a birthing partner which would be what he'd assume was the point of the classes. Even now she found the idea of the two of them sitting on the floor, him supporting her shoulders and her learning how to breath faintly ridiculous, but she had asked him because she was determined to prove that she was nothing like her mother. The swiftest way to do that was to start to treat Jonny like a human being and not an irritation. It was no wonder that he was astounded. 'I changed my mind'

'Why?' he asked, bright enough to realise that there was more to this than met the eye, stupid enough to look a gift horse in the mouth and ask the question.

'Does it matter? You're getting your own way. Be grateful for that'

'Fine' he sighed, knowing that she was right, and that if he continued to push his luck then she'd change her mind. 'When is it?'

'Thursday, half past seven, down on maternity' she replied, already regretting inviting him along. He had every right to be involved but she knew that if he, or anybody else, ever chanted push at her like an annoying cheerleader then she would lay them flat with a well aimed punch. 'This doesn't mean that I want you to be at the birth. It's more that I want them to teach you how to change a nappy so that I don't have to'

'Of course' he replied, but he was grinning and the twinkle was back in his eye. Her unfairness over the scan had been well and truly forgotten. As she turned away from him she watched him punch the air and stifled a sigh. Sometimes it felt as though she already had a child, as well as the one that she was carrying.

**ooooo**

When they left the course they were both mute with horror. It had started badly when she'd caught him flirting with the midwife leading the session during the introductory coffee. She wasn't entirely sure that she hadn't heard him referring to her as his baby mama but she consoled herself that he couldn't possibly have been that crass, even in the name of getting laid. After that it had been down hill from there. The midwife had shown a video that left nobody in any doubt that giving birth was going to be a messy, painful, unpleasant business and now she felt sick and he looked as though he was about to throw up.

'I need a drink' he murmured as they headed for the car park. 'And to think I considered a career in midwifery'

'I think it's safe to say you're not cut out for it. You looked like you were about to faint back there'

'You didn't look so hot yourself' he pointed out with a chuckle.

'Well it's me that's got to do all of that…' she flapped her hand and pulled a face, distressed by the memory '… that pushing stuff. Anyway, I thought that you'd given up alcohol'

'So did I' he shrugged 'Half a pint won't hurt. For the shock, you see. Are you coming?'

'I suppose so' she agreed. 'Somebody has to see you home when one beer turns into half a dozen and you're in no state to drive'

'Why did you really ask me along tonight?' he asked. To her surprise he had taken her not to Albie's but to a small country pub off the beaten track where their colleagues wouldn't interrupt them. He had driven himself and, as promised, had ordered only half a pint for himself, as well as a pint of lemonade for her and two bags of crisps. Right now it was exactly what she needed, but his question spoiled her mood somewhat. 'Did you just want to scare the hell out of me?'

'No, that's just an added bonus' she replied with a grin 'Anyway, I don't know what you're looking so pasty about. Nobody's going to force their way out of your body like some kind of inconsiderate wrecking ball'

'So then why?' he queried, wisely choosing not to dignify the wrecking ball thing by acknowledging it.

'Because I felt bad about the scan, if you must know' she sighed. 'It was a mean thing to do, and it actually had nothing to do with you at all. I wanted to remind myself who was boss and the scan was… a useful way of doing that, I suppose'

'And nothing at all to do with that phone call you took the other night? Because you were clearly shaken by that…'

'That phone call was nobody's business but mine' she snapped, then immediately regretted it because so far the "be nice to Jonny" thing was having mixed results, and because if she was honest she would feel better for sharing it with somebody, even if it was just Jonny. 'It was my dad'

'Your dad? But I thought…'

'That I grew up in care? Yeah, I did. He only found out that I existed when he saw me in the papers after the Richie Mooney thing and Hanssen's career suicide attempt, at least so he claims. Apparently my mother lied about being pregnant with me and he never saw her again'

'And you believe that?'

'Knowing my mother, I wouldn't put anything past her'

'And you wouldn't be trying to make up for your mother's treatment of your father by being nicer to me?' he asked, looking a little smug which immediately rankled with her.

'Drop the pop psychology, Maconie. It doesn't suit you'

'Sorry, sorry' he put his hands up in a gesture of defeat 'So, the baby's got a grandparent?'

'Hardly. I haven't even properly decided whether I want to meet him yet. I've got this far through life without him'

'And you're such a well rounded person' he agreed. She didn't need to hear the sarcasm in his tone of voice to know that he was taking the piss. 'You should give him a chance'

'The two of you could make some kind of Fathers for Justice splinter group' she suggested with a smirk on her face. 'I haven't decided what I'm going to do about him'

'Well I'm sure that you'll make the right decision'

'Yeah' she agreed, but she was far from convinced. Where Neil Bridges was concerned she was beginning to seriously doubt that there was a right answer.

'And for the record, I don't think that you're anything like your mother' he added, sincerely this time. She didn't really believe that he knew anything about it, but she was grateful to him for having the decency to pretend.


	4. Chapter 4

The next two months crawled by in a slow motion smudge of work, discomfort, elastic waist trousers and daily changes of heart over whether she was actually going to meet up with her father. Some days she woke up convinced that going to see him was exactly the right thing to do, the only way to get closure on her childhood and his absence from it. On other days she woke up convinced that after nearly forty years of not having a father she didn't really need him muscling back in now. Jonny was annoyingly non-committal about the whole thing. He was brighter than she'd ever given him credit for: far too smart to be hoodwinked into expressing an opinion that could be used against him at a later date. Until the day that Neil telephoned to check the arrangements for their meeting a part of her had hoped that he would never call and she would be spared ever having to make her decision, but she knew that that wouldn't really help either. If he didn't call then she'd be more disappointed than she'd ever be willing to admit and if she was disappointed then she'd only take it out on Jonny and make life even more difficult for herself, because the further her pregnancy progressed the less heart she had for fighting with him. Being pregnant was difficult enough between the exhaustion and the unchecked hormones without provoking somebody into calling her a crazy bitch a couple of times every day.

They arranged to meet at her hotel. It suited her because it meant minimal effort and that she didn't have to cram herself and her bump behind the wheel of the car for any longer than necessary, and he seemed quite happy with the situation. There had been an awkward conversation when they'd discussed how they'd recognise one another, as if they were going on some kind of date rather than staging a massively belated father/daughter reunion, but he knew what she looked like from the article the year before so they agreed that they would work it out. And so here she was, sitting in the bar of the hotel, sipping an orange juice when she would really have liked vodka, wondering whether he was even going to show up; wondering whether every man that walked through the bar was her father. And yet, when he walked in she barely noticed him. He was shorter than she had expected, and skinnier and fairer, and far younger. He didn't look like she imagined her father would look, and a part of her was a tiny bit disappointed that after thirty-seven years of imagining him he was nothing like anything she'd ever conjured up in her mind.

'Jac?' he asked nervously as he approached her in the bar.

'Yes…' she replied, forcing herself to smile when what she really wanted to do was run away. '... Neil?'

'Yeah' he nodded, perching on the stool beside her. 'Can I get you another drink?'

'Orange juice and soda' she nodded, draining her glass, wondering just how much damage a little vodka would even do: surely nobody could expect her to face this situation sober. What stopped her was that she wanted her father to think well of her, not to think she was some kind of irresponsible idiot just like her mother.

'Fine' he nodded, then ordered a pint of lager for himself as well as her orange juice. 'So… How have you been?'

'Fine' she replied 'You?'

'Not bad' he shrugged 'You didn't mention that you were…' he gestured towards her weakly. She almost felt bad for him: twelve months ago he hadn't known that he'd got a daughter, now he very nearly had a grandchild too.

'Yeah'

'Is your husband here?'

'No husband' she replied with a shrug, and for the first time that bothered her. Not because she wanted to be married, to Jonny or anybody else, or because being a single mother was anything to be ashamed of, but because she didn't know what her father's view of it would be and somehow that mattered to her more than she'd ever thought it would. 'The baby's dad's in Scotland, visiting his sister' she added, because she wanted him to know that Jonny was on the scene. That she hadn't carved her baby's father out of their lives. That she was nothing like her mother in that, or any other, respect.

'Well, congratulations' he told her, raising his glass in a small gesture of a toast.

'Do you have kids?' she asked awkwardly, briefly debating whether or not to use the word "other": to acknowledge that technically speaking she was his "kid".

'No, no kids. I've done a lot of travelling and worked in some amazing places, but the family thing never really happened for me. Bristol is the first place that I've stayed for more than a year since I was sixteen'

'How long have you been here?'

'Eighteen months. I had to give up the nomadic lifestyle…'

'Why is that?'

'Because…' he scratched his head, looked awkward. As if there was something that he needed to tell her but didn't exactly know how to go about saying it. '… Look, there's something that you should know. It has nothing to do with why I contacted you. I didn't even know when I sent that birthday card…'

'What?' she asked, trying to ignore the tight knot of panic in her chest because she could tell from his face that what she was about to hear she was going to very much wish she hadn't.

'I have a brain tumour' he told her slowly, almost apologetically. 'I was diagnosed in July'

'I only found out that you existed in July' she pointed out, shifting uncomfortably because the baby had sensed her distress and decided that what she needed was for it to turn somersaults inside her.

'I know. I'm sorry. If I'd known before I sent the card then…'

'You wouldn't have bothered?' she finished for him, snatching up her handbag. She knew that it wasn't really fair to storm out – that it wasn't his fault that he was ill – but she also recognised the burning pain of nausea in her chest and she knew that if she didn't get up to her room fast then she was going to give the patrons of the bar a display that they wouldn't forget in a hurry.

'I'm sorry, Jac…'

'No, I'm sorry. I have to go' she told him, and stormed out of the bar without even glancing back.

When she woke up in the middle of the night, the first thing that she was aware of was pain. After she'd gotten back to the room she'd crawled into the bathroom, thrown up until her throat was raw and her chest burned, and then she'd crawled between the cool sheets and fallen asleep. A glance at the clock told her that she hadn't been asleep for any more than two hours, but that was nothing knew. She hadn't slept well for a couple of months thanks to a combination of her pregnancy and all the stress that went with it, not to mention the stress of Neil Bridges' reappearance in her life. She was used to waking up at two am with backache but normally a walk around the bedroom and a cup of tea settled her down and she would drop off again, usually on the sofa. This time she wasn't sure whether she could even move from the bed and it scared her. She didn't think that she was in labour - she'd been having Braxton Hicks contractions for weeks and this didn't feel anything like that – but she was sure that the pain wasn't just normal pregnancy related discomfort. There was something wrong and she was stuck in a hotel 50 miles from home with nobody nearby to help her. For a minute she panicked, not sure what to do or who to call. Jonny was hundreds of miles away, Sacha had problems of his own without being saddled with hers and Mo would make things worse purely by being annoying. There was nobody who was going to come to her aid, so she did the next best thing: she called somebody who wasn't going to ride to her rescue but would at least tell her what to do which for the first time in her life was exactly what she needed

He was lying on the sofa, dead to the world thanks to a long journey and a couple of beers to celebrate his arrival when the phone rang, stirring him from his slumber. Usually when he'd had a bit to drink he'd be out for the count but lately he'd not been sleeping so well, largely because he was constantly waiting for the phone to ring and for Jac to announce that the baby was coming. He knew that it could be weeks yet but he'd never known Jac do anything the easy way, whether she intended to be difficult or not, and somehow he just knew that if the baby had anything of its mother in it at all then its arrival would not be without its drama. So far the panicked telephone calls hadn't materialised but as the shrill, electronic guitar-strumming ring tone penetrated the silence and the display lit up the room he knew that there was trouble on the horizon. How bloody typical of her for it to be when he was five hundred odd miles away he thought to himself as he clambered to his feet and stumbled half blindly to the bookshelf where he grabbed his phone and slammed his glasses onto his face.

'Jac? What's the matter?' he asked blearily, glancing at his watch. 2am. Jesus.

'Jonny?' she sounded tearful and in pain, and it terrified him. He'd hoped that this was an overreaction on her part – that she was up with indigestion and was going to make damn sure that he suffered along with her – but it didn't sound like an overreaction. It sounded like she was genuinely frightened. 'I think I need help'

'I'm eight hours away' he told her, desperately wishing that he hadn't decided to pay one last trip to visit his little sister before he more or less stuck within a one mile radius of Jac and waited for her to drop. She'd seemed peeved when he'd told her that he was going but she didn't get it. She didn't know about Violet, it wasn't something that he genuinely broadcast, and so she didn't understand why his not seeing his sister for a couple of months really was a big deal. 'Do you want me to call Mo?'

'Effanga? What the hell is she going to do? She's probably paralytic and even if she isn't, it'll take her hours to get here'

'She lives ten minutes from you' he pointed out, then remembered that the reason he'd chosen this weekend was because Jac was going on some symposium or other in Bath. 'You're not at home'

'Well done, Sherlock' she snapped 'I'm stuck in some godforsaken hotel. I don't even know where the nearest hospital is and I'm fifty miles from home'

'Call an ambulance?'

'And get carried past half of the delegates on a chair by the paramedics? No thanks'

'Jac, precisely how much pain are you in?' he asked, applying the old rule that he used when triaging patients in the A&E: those that complained about how inconvenient the situation was usually didn't need to be there at all. The fact that Jac was jettisoning all of his ideas suggested to him that she couldn't be _that_ scared.

'Enough' she replied tersely 'It's not contractions. It's my back and my hips'

'Not contractions is good' he murmured 'What about Sacha? He'll probably be in a fit state to drive…'

'He's got enough problems. He doesn't need to be looking after me as well'

'Do you know anybody at the conference?'

'Nobody that I'm on good terms with' she replied which, given her propensity for pissing other people off, was entirely believable.

'Fine. What about your dad?'

'What about him?'

'Call Neil. He's better than nobody, he's fifteen minutes drive away and he'll probably come'

'I wouldn't bet on it' she replied darkly, leaving him wondering just what Jac had said but he decided that it wasn't a line of questioning that it would be helpful to pursue.

'Either you call Neil or I call the hotel and tell them to call 999' he told her firmly, like he even remembered what hotel she was staying in when his head felt like it was full of cotton wool. He wasn't even sure that he'd been listening when she'd told him in the first place.

'Fine' she snapped. She was pissed off but then she'd never much liked being told what to do but he didn't care. All that he cared about was placing his unborn child, and her, in the safest hands possible.

'As soon as you get to the hospital please let me know' he told her 'I'm going to hit the road now. I'll be with you by morning' he added. He knew that he was probably in no fit state but he also knew that it would be a good hour before he hit a main road – probably before he saw another human being – and that by the time he did he would be under the limit.

'There's no need. I don't think that the baby is going to come tonight'

'There's every need. You're carrying my child and if you're in hospital then I'm going to be there' he told her and for once in her life she didn't argue with him.


End file.
